


Veritas

by kalypsobean



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, Pining, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone found out about Feren's crush on Legolas that night. Then everything happened, and Legolas was gone; Feren's feelings remained.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGaGalion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGaGalion/gifts).



On later reflection, Feren really shouldn't have raided the barrels. He would have looked rather silly, since he would have been the only sober Elf in Mirkwood aside from the King and Legolas, but then he wouldn't be in the situation he was now. It was fine to watch after Legolas from afar, after all, but to have half the prison guard know about it was quite the humiliation. It is especially so, for he has the now-dubious privilege of carrying the horn. 

Feren thought that if he heard one more remark about blowing a horn that isn't the one hanging from his belt, he would end up being tried for kinslaying. The snickering when Legolas had been the one to say it, not especially well hidden for the inebriated state of those doing the mocking, had been so embarrassing that he hadn't had the breath at first, though the horn did the work for him once he had quelled the shaking enough to bring it to his lips.

 

He'd spent years wishing Legolas would trust him as more than a brother-in-arms, and then not only was his dream suddenly known to seemingly everyone, but there was no compassion for his plight at all. Legolas seemed to look straight through him, even when they were speaking directly. Until now, he had been able to write it off as Legolas being rather single-minded, focused on combat and the growing threat, but now?

The idea that Legolas might learn of his feelings and be ignoring them was a weight in his gut even as they marched to war. Soon, though, there was no time for thoughts and distraction; there was only death.

And then, Legolas did not return.

 

*

 

It was only a few years, not even a lifetime in the reckoning of Men, when Legolas returned. The remarks, by then, had turned into compassionate glances, when there was any acknowledgement at all. Most of those who had been on duty that night had worked hard for their part to be forgotten, after all, and with that came their unwillingness to acknowledge the secrets that had been revealed. Feren half-thought that they had latched on to his in order to deflect from their own, but he had spent so long trying to rise above it that he refused to think less of anyone for their part in his plight.

After all, it had been easier to pine when nobody knew to come up to him at his post, place a hand on his shoulder, and ask how he was doing as if they cared.

It had also been easier when the Elf who responded to his challenge was not the one he had so often longed for. 

"Really, Feren? You don't know me? It has not been so long, I hope, that I have been entirely forgotten."

Feren had trouble finding words to stammer an apology, even as Legolas laughed and gave the password. Signalling that it was safe to open the gate, Feren leapt from his post in order to greet Legolas properly. The Legolas in front of him, though, was not quite the one from his memories, or his dreams. This Legolas was thinner - he walked more lightly, if that was even possible, but he had lost the solid muscle of a guard and instead looked as willowy as a leaf being blown away on a spring breeze. His eyes had lost their hardness and his mouth no longer turned down at the sides, but he was expressionless still, and his hand did not stray from the end of his worn and scratched bow. The changes were marked for an Elf over such a short period of time; Feren himself had not changed at all save for a thinning in the stomach, a result of his careful moderation with regards to wine.

"I must ask that Father see me soonest," Legolas said. Feren told himself that he imagined the wistful tone and the way Legolas looked him up and down. After all, Legolas had made a point of knowing all the guards by name; it was not as if Legolas remembering his name was as significant as the hitch in his heartbeat had made it seem. "Walk with me, Feren. What need I know before I see him?"

Galion slipped into Feren's place on the wall with a nod and a wink, as if it was merely time for his shift. Feren found himself swept up in the wave of Elves who seemingly appeared from nowhere (a trait which was common, but which he had found rather annoying more times than he dared to count) to see their Prince and bow shyly. Legolas took a hastily gathered bouquet from one hopeful maiden. He patted her hand, but did not stop moving. It was almost as if Legolas no longer belonged here, among the simple woodland folk, and instead was an embodiment of the wildness of the nature outside; it was a thought Feren pushed aside even as he faltered and he felt a pain in his chest akin to heartache, for it would mean Legolas could not belong to him. Legolas, of course, smiled and greeted those who approached him as if Feren's predicament was as invisible as the wind.

It was an eternity and yet not long at all when they reached Thranduil's audience chamber, and already Feren could hear the King's voice through the doors. Legolas' hand on his arm was warm, even through the deer leather bracer that protected his wrist from the torments of the bowstring. 

"I must go on alone, Feren, though I am grateful to have had company on the way here." Legolas' gaze was even, and though he did not smile as he had done for so many, Feren felt a warmth there that passed quickly enough, as the doors opened and Legolas turned away.

 

It was after he had stared at the door, studying the branches and leaves carved into the stone, and utterly failed at hearing anything through it even with his ear pressed against the crack, that it occurred to him. Surely Legolas would be staying, at least for a night's rest? He was not expected back on the gate; Galion had made that clear enough, and if he returned now he would have to tolerate whatever remarks they had thought up in his absence. But he could be of use here, perhaps, for though Legolas had been absent, his rooms had been kept up in readiness for his return. If word had already reached the staff, they would be busy preparing a feast, if they weren't primping in order to catch a Princely eye. It couldn't be too hard to air a room. After all, he kept his own space in the garrison tidily enough.

His feet had taken him there before he had agreed that his idea was a good one, but the doors were already open, though it seemed that whoever had done it had been called away. Feren opened a window and, entranced, looked out over the entire keep. It was a view he had not seen from quite so high before; he had felt pride and a love for his home since before he chose to join the guard, but seeing it from here, and out into the forest, it was almost a siren call.

"I did not expect to find you here, Feren," Legolas said, suddenly quite close behind him. In fact, the breath from Legolas' words brushed over Feren's ear and across his cheek. Feren held his breath; he didn't dare speak, in case the next words from Legolas were of chastisement, or outright disregard.

"You are not unwelcome, though," Legolas said. Feren turned; Legolas was weaponless, and his overtunic lay on the bed. "The view always captivates me too."

Legolas shifted so that he was beside Feren, just close enough that his hand rested against Feren's hip. "Everyone going about their business, safe, unaware, happy."

"Legolas?" Feren said, for he detected a strange tone in Legolas' words, as if there was something not quite right, and his attention was far away. He didn't know quite what made him do it - whether Legolas seemed so lonely that he felt that he had to reach out, or so forlorn that he could not help but give comfort - but he twined his fingers through Legolas' and squeezed. 

Things moved fast, after that, almost too swiftly for him to understand anything but the brief flashes of lucidity between moments of dizzying pleasure. Legolas pushed him into the wall, away from the window, and leaned in, kissing him over and over until he wasn't sure if the breathlessness was from lack of air or the way Legolas coaxed him into kissing back, chasing every time Legolas pulled back and finding just the right amount of pressure to use to make Legolas relax his hold. It was not that he did not enjoy having his back against the hard wood, with its roughly patterned texture only serving to highlight how his senses had grown sharper and yet narrower at the same time, or that he did not find the way that Legolas had pressed his wrists together above his head rather intoxicating. He wanted to touch, too; he wanted to reach down and feel Legolas' skin under his fingers, to press into the soft skin over Legolas' hips and be the one to guide them as Legolas shifted against him, perhaps even to slide his hands lower and be the one to make Legolas come. But it was over too soon; Legolas only let go when they had both been spent, and Feren had not been able to manage even one stolen touch, though he felt rather more cold when Legolas had pulled away and he was no longer pressed against anything but air. 

"It is true then," Legolas said. "Did you think me so oblivious, that you could not tell me? Or that you would not be good enough?"

"I don't know what I thought," Feren said. In truth, he had felt that he would not be good enough; he was not high-born and had earned his position through long hours and hard work, and he was by no means as comely or as regal as Legolas.

"I cannot stay, you know this. Our world..." Legolas' expression became lax and his eyes unfocused, as if he was looking for something far away.

"I would follow you," Feren said. Legolas seemed to snap back to the present; he turned his head so that he was looking directly at Feren, and it seemed as if his very fëa was exposed at that moment, as if Legolas could see into him and through him.

"You may well have to," Legolas said. "But we must hope it does not come to that."

"Hope?" Feren said, for he felt as if there was a conversation happening that he did not understand. Legolas, for all he sounded the same, and how close they had been, still seemed so feral, more dangerous, and Feren wished he could catch up.

At that point, though, the bells began to ring.

"Father still announces every feast as if is an occasion for the entire realm, I see," Legolas said. He reached over and tugged on Feren's tunic. Each touch was as warm as that first, and left a trail of fire, but Legolas only straightened it and tied the laces just so, before doing his own. 

"Many will come just to see you," Feren said. "You were missed."

"I noticed that much." Legolas started towards the door, then turned back. "Did you miss me?"

Feren had not moved at all, for he was savouring this last of the moments before he gave Legolas back to the world outside.

"I did," he said, for it was the truth, and there was nothing else to say.

"Good," Legolas said, as if he was pleased by something unexpected. "Now escort me to dinner, and save me from politics, for tonight at least. Then, we have something to finish, I think." Legolas held out his arm, crooked at the elbow.

"What's that?" Feren said, even as he slid his hand around Legolas' arm, noting the slight tremor from the touch. Legolas leaned in, and for a moment Feren felt dizzy again.

"Why, next time I want us at least to be lying down!" 

Feren felt heat flow to his cheeks as he blushed. For a moment, Legolas' smile was genuine, before they opened the door and the mask slid back down. In that moment, Feren knew, more certainly than he had ever known before, that he would indeed follow Legolas, as far as he would be allowed to go.


End file.
